If Love Hurts, is it Really Love?
by Farky-fark and the Munky Bunch
Summary: A one-shot regarding the relationship between Daenerys and Viserys with an appearance from the awesomest Khal EVER! Set sometime during A Game of Thrones. Rated M for language.


**A/N: **So, I don't honestly know why or how I got this idea…but I did, so I wrote it. I won't waste your time talking so I'll make this brief. If you're trying to learn Dothraki based off of me, don't. I'm still pretty bad at it, though I am getting better, and if you try to teach yourself using what I use, you'll probably be learning incorrect things. Of course, I could say that any grammar mistakes were purposeful since Dany's not fluent, but I can't use that for Drogo. Anyway, translations are at the bottom and I hope that you have fun reading.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

* * *

"Is it true?"

Daenerys turned to see her older brother standing just inside the tent, his arms crossed over his chest. She finished smoothing out the furs across her and Drogo's sleeping mat and suddenly wished her husband was there.

"Is what true?"

"That you're pregnant."

She was silent for a moment then nodded, turning around to face Viserys. "Yes. It's true."

He snorted, contempt evident in his expression. "Less than a month married and already with child. I see the _k__hal_ has been putting his gift to good use. Where's my compensation?"

"I—" Dany hesitated, glancing over her brother's shoulder in the desperate hope that the rustle of the tent flap was the tall, muscular _khal_ and not just the wind. Apparently the gods weren't smiling on her today.

"I always knew you were a slut," Viserys sneered, stalking over to his younger sister as she backed away from his searing glare. "I sold you to Khal Drogo, so where is my army?"

"He—"

_"And where's my crown!"_

Daenerys found herself against the back of the tent so she put a hand out to keep her brother at a distance. "You should talk to Drogo…"

"He doesn't tell you these things? I guess he would be too busy fucking you to talk wouldn't he? Oh, and of course there's the fact that you don't share a common language."

Dany decided to refrain from telling him that Drogo had been teaching her Dothraki in his spare time while she taught him a few words in the Common Tongue each night. Instead, she stayed silent, prompting Viserys to raise his eyebrows.

"Hm? Well say something."

"I'm sure Khal Drogo will get you your army. You are the true king of the Seven Kingdoms after all."

Viserys took a step closer and his lips twisted into a smirk when his sister flinched. "That's right. I am. But you do know where the _khalasar _is headed don't you? To Vaes Dothrak_._ So a group of old women can predict the future of your baby." He poked a finger accusingly at her belly and she quickly shielded it with her hand. "He doesn't give a fuck about my crown, or my army. All he cares about is you and the half-Targaryen, half-savage baby. Your child will never be worth more than our home, or my rightful throne."

As afraid of her brother as she was, Daenerys straightened up and stared back at him defiantly. "Our child is worth more than you or anything of yours ever will be."

Viserys' eyebrows shot up and he looked down at her in a slightly stunned silence. "What?"

Dany paled slightly and she tried to stumble backwards, but once again found herself as far back as she could go. "I-I didn't mean—"

Striding forward, he roughly took hold of her chin and forced her violet eyes to meet his. He smelled of wine. "If you didn't mean it, then say what you meant."

She tried to keep the fear out of her eyes. "You're the rightful king. The Usurper took what was ours and getting it back is what's most important. Khal Drogo is honored to have such an esteemed figure in his _khalasar_."

"That's right. So why don't I have ten thousand Dothraki screamers under my command?"

"It's Dothraki custom to take the _Khaleesi_—"

Viserys slapped her, leaving a large red welt across her pale cheek. "Do you think I care about the customs of these savages! I _will _have my men! And my crown. You'd best tell your husband that I'm not willing to wait much longer." He looked down at his sister and smiled. "You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?"

Dany shook her head and Viserys lightly tapped her still red cheek with his palm. "Good girl. You'd do well to tell Khal Drogo what I said. I won't be as forgiving next time." Grabbing a fistful of her hair he added, "The dragon doesn't wait on savages."

When he spun on his heel and stalked off, she crumpled to the ground and huddled against the back edge of the tent, wrapping her arms protectively around her stomach as she cried. Somewhere outside, she heard her brother laugh.

* * *

_"Me loj yer."_

Drogo reached out a hand and brushed it gently across the bruise on his wife's cheek. She turned away from the light of the brazier that illuminated the area where she'd been struck.

_"Anha yatho zhavorza."_

Snorting, he turned her head back to carefully inspect the injury. _"Me voz zhavorza." _Leaning forward, he tenderly kissed the swollen bruise then moved down to her lips.

Trying to remember his language was making her even wearier than she already was so when she dropped her head down to rest against his chest, she slipped back into the Common Tongue. "But he's a Targaryen."

Drogo shrugged and rolled onto his side so he could meet her gaze. "You are Targaryen."

"But he's the heir. He's the dragon. And the rightful king. _Jil Khal._"

_"Me voz Khal."_

"But our father—"

"Blood does not make _k__hal_. Man makes _k__hal_. Viserys not _k__hal_."

If only she had the nerve to agree with him outside of the privacy of their tent. "I—" She struggled to find words he would understand. Apparently she didn't need to.

"He hurts the moon of my life."

Viserys had always been abusive. She was so accustomed to it that it seemed normal. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

Drogo frowned and shook his head, running his fingers through her long silver hair. "No."

"He wanted me to tell you, _zhavorza voz ayo she Dothraki._"

Raising his eyebrows, Drogo laughed wryly and absentmindedly rubbed his thumb across her bare shoulder. _"Vos. Dothraki voz ayo ifak."_ His dark eyes were filled with affection when he looked at her. "No worry. I speak to _yeri gaezo._"

"Just don't hurt him." As much as she feared him, he was still family.

Drogo grunted, but gave no other form of reply to her request, instead tracing her lips with his finger in silence. After a moment, he looked back into her eyes. _"Anha voz zhalat yer khezhat. Emi. Yer __zheanalanat affin yer emi."_

Dany acquiesced, smiling slightly and rubbing her nose against his. "So are you." A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips and he raised his eyebrows.

"I am…beautiful?"

She blushed. "I don't know how to say handsome."

A playful smile crossed his normally expressionless features and he offered her a word in Dothraki. _"Mezahhe."_

_"Mezahhe."_

When Drogo laughed, she looked at him suspiciously. "What does that mean?"

He chuckled and shook his head, running one of his large hands down to rest on her hip. "No worry. It is…true."

Rolling her eyes, she tucked her face against his shoulder and held his free hand in her own. "Good night, my sun-and-stars." Drogo smiled and kissed the top of her head, pulling the furs that had settled at the small of her back up to her shoulders to ward off the evening air.

"Good…night, _jalan atthirari anni._"

She drifted off to sleep to the sound of Drogo's steady breathing, curled tightly in his strong arms. Somewhere outside she heard Viserys yelling at some unfortunate Dothraki man.

"You don't want to wake the dragon!"

Dany smiled contentedly and whispered toward the sound of his voice. _"Yer voz zhavorza…_I am."

* * *

_Me loj yer_- he hit you

_Anha yatho zhavorza_- I raised the dragon (couldn't find the verb 'to wake')

_Me voz zhavorza_- he's no dragon

_Jil Khal_- rightful king

_Me voz Khal_- he's no king

_Zhavorza voz ayo she Dothraki_- the dragon does not wait on Dothraki

_Vos. Dothraki voz ayo ifak_- No. The Dothraki do not wait on the walker (_ifak _is an insult used for non-Dothraki people and literally means 'walker')

_Yeri gaezo_- your brother

_Anha voz zhalat yer khezhat. Emi. Yer __zheanalanat affin yer emi_- I don't want you to be sad. Smile. You're more beautiful when you smile.

_Mezahhe_- sexy

_jalan atthirari anni_- moon of my life

_Yer voz zhavorza_- you're no dragon


End file.
